


Thoughts, Emotions, Hopes, and Regrets

by KoroGunso8



Category: Original Work, Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Cheating, Death, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Insanity, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Norman plays clarinet, Other, Random Shorts, Short & Sweet, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Violent Sex, mention of Norman's nasty kinks, seriously he needs help
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoroGunso8/pseuds/KoroGunso8
Summary: This will be a collection of short little stories about some of my TOS OC's and OC's in general.





	1. The Executioner's Story As Seen Through The Jester's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to request things for me to write or tell me what you want developed into a full story. This can be with my OCs/Roles anything! I'll do crack shit too if you really want me to and smut isn't off the table.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jester/exe angst boi

I remember the first time I met you. We were alone in your "hospital" after another one of my suicide attempts. I loved the way your blue eyes, calm and gentle, pampered me with encouraging words. I also remembered how your white lab coat crinkled whenever you put your hands on your hips to scold me for being so reckless. I always would giggle when you said that, I am the jester after all, my job is to get myself killed. Your disappointment made me stop giggling, and I remember the painful silence that filled the room. I guess you weren't too enchanted by my jesting, sadly.

I still remember the worried glances you would throw at me during meetings whenever I caused a fuss during the meetings.The way you would scold me for being reckless became rather annoying. I remember the time cried because you were yelling at me. I had overstepped and called your brother out in a meeting. It wasn't hard to find out he was a Serial Killer and it was easier calling him out for it. I almost go the town to believe me but at a consequence I made you hate me. I didn't mean to almost killed, I just wanted to use him as bait for my jest. You didn't believe me. No, you continued to yell at me until I cried because the way your sky blue eyes narrowed at me hurt and stabbed at me more than your tone. You calmed down when I started crying, your angry eyes now wide with fear as you shuffled frantically through your little first aid kit to give me some candy for comfort. You pulled out a bubblegum lollipop, my favorite. I didn't accept it. Instead, I ran away from you, ignoring the devastation in your eyes as you trudged grimly back to your home.

We grew apart after that, I stopped visiting you and even faking my sicknesses, and you realized and became too busy to even deal with me anymore. I wouldn't look at you and eventually you stopped looking at me until we even stopped talking at meetings. It didn't bother me much at first until you let a woman, you called your wife, and her sick child into your home. After that you began to completely ignore me. Even when I would cause a commotion to get you to just notice me again, you would ignore me and my cries for you attention. I started faking sick to force you to make time for me but somehow you knew and would turn me away each time. It pissed me off how much time you wasted taking care of the woman's sickly child. Even after the child's sudden recovery, you continued to ignore me.

It took another attempt on my life to get you to even look at me again. After I recovered, I remember how angry you were with me, like you hated the very heart the beats in my chest. I didn't apologize because couldn't help it, I felt I had lost my only friend in the world, the only person who would tolerate me other than the janitor. He left me a while back too sadly, he moved on to other towns with his father's mafia. I said it was your fault and that you should comfort me like the janitor did when we were kids. I regretfully said I hated you and your family. I wished that the woman and child that took my best friend away died, so he could finally realize how much he'd hurt me. I clearly remember the hurt look on your face before you angrily ordered me out of your house. I cried and cried for you to forgive me, but you just screamed at me to leave.

I resented you for that and in turn you resented me. We devolved back into you routine negligence and my failing attempts for your attention. I suffered every day because of how you treated me. It really was your fault that we drifted apart, you just hadn't realized yet. Everything was your fault and I wanted you to realize that, so I was ecstatic when the vampire hunter slaughtered your wife and her child. It was your punishment.

After the incident, you changed. At first it was minor. You just moped around the town, your sky blue eyes a polluted and murky blue as if you were elsewhere. At times you seemed distracted, like you were completely detached from your body and the outside world. After the mayor officially excused you from meetings to recover, you shut yourself in your own home. I didn't see you much after that until I came down with a cold and needed antibiotics. I remember how dead your eyes looked as you fixed me a bag with the antibiotics. You handed it to me wordlessly and went back to the paperwork on your desk. I remember opening my mouth to speak but I left you alone and went home. As I walked home I opened my my bag of antibiotics, curious of what was inside to find the medicine. Before I took the medicine, I remember looking again to see a lollipop. I eagerly opened the wrapper and gave it a taste and I couldn't help but tear up. It was bubblegum, my favorite.

Everyday you seemed to get worse and worse after my visit. You stopped taking care of yourself and once you stopped helping yourself, you stopped helping others. I remember crying when you had to move in with your brother because you tried slitting your own throat with a scalpel. I heard that your brother hid all the sharp objects in the house and bolted down the furniture. He also to forced you outside, in an sad attempt to make you better, but it made me a little happier since I got to see you everyday.

It was nice to see you wandering in the forest or standing outside on your porch, your dead eyes scanning the horizon with a hollow look on your face. I remember trying to talk to you a few times, but you would never seem to hear me, you always seemed more interested in watching the stars or sunset. I remember a night where I got angry shoved you to get your attention, but you're calculating grey eyes stayed fixed upon the full moon.

I admit, I gave up after that and sat silently with you whenever you wandered the woods or watched the stars. I remember the way your unkempt hair would blow in the night breeze and how desperately I wished for you to break the silence, look at me, touch me. Anything! Regardless, those days I spent with you out there were some of the best days of my life until I noticed you weren't getting better, in fact, you were getting much worse. The first sign was when you stopped wearing your glasses and in turn your eyes became unnaturally wide and sensitive as you were unable to see much of anything anymore. Then after that you retired your lab coat and first aid kit for a raggedy pair of black jeans and a dull grey sweater. It hurt, it hurt everyone when we had to watch our cheerful and kind doctor become but a husk of his former self.

It was an understatement to say people were surprised to see you, in your lesser state, at your first meeting in almost a month. You wore that same grey, turtleneck sweater with jeans, your was hair long and unkempt, and your eyes, the kind blue that warmed frightened children and adults hearts alike before a painful vaccine were stained with hatred and wild with insanity. Everyone watched you silently, the atmosphere grim, as we listened to you shout aggressive accusations at the vampire hunter, who seemed too shocked to try deflecting any of the blame. You screamed your voice hoarse for hours till the mayor finally ended the meeting and sent everyone home. At that moment, there was an understanding between neutrals, the town, and mafia alike. The kind children's doctor was gone and replaced with a maniac that everyone began to avoid.

After getting over that shock, I turned to go home until I felt you place your hands on my shoulders and gently squeeze. I jumped and turned to you, my frightened eyes stared up into your crazed yet lifeless orbs. I remember the chills I felt when you bent down to my ear and whispered, "Please, help Raphael." I nodded hesitantly, confused at the fact that you were referring to yourself in third person, but before I could question your sanity you picked me up in your arms and raced me to your house.

From then began our little ritual, we slipped into your house every night, You vocalized your hatred for the hunter, and I listened. Sometimes you would rant endlessly about how you wanted him dead, or you would make long and complicated plans to get the town to lynch him, it usually varied.

Despite you being completely and utterly insane, I loved getting to be with you again. I got to visit you all I wanted, and you didn't ignore or shun me. Once again I could hug and laugh with you even though your heart was so consumed with jealousy and hatred that all our chatter was about your obsession with the hunter, or the fact that you didn't even seem to understand what affection was anymore, I didn't mind. I always smiled at you regardless of how creepy your maniacal laughter sounded, or how angry and violent you could get with mayor and jailor for not listening to your accusations. I smile because I knew, between your obsessions, hate, and jealousy, that I was the only person who understood you. We were both obsessed, you with lynching the Vampire Hunter, and me with lynching myself. We fit together perfectly, inseparable companions that stayed at your home and chattered the night away as your white lab coat and first aid kit rotted away in the dusty corner.

.


	2. If I’m Going Straight To Hell, I’m Taking You With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got carried away. Mafioso and SK go to kill the medium and shit goes down.

"What are you doing here!" Norman and Quinn shout in surprise as they stand in front of the medium's door. A suffocating silence thickens the atmosphere as they continue their heated staring contest, and it takes the faint smell of burning flesh to snap them both back to reality. The Arsonist doing, no doubt.

"You can't be here!" They both scream at each other then quickly shut their mouths, Quinn blushing and Norman lifting an eyebrow questioningly. Norman returns his knife into its home on the back of his belt and the Quinn does the same with his gun. Quinn rubs his arm nervously as more suspicious than they already were.

"This is honestly going nowhere." Norman, the serial killer, states irritatedly with his hands on his hips. He almost smirks at the way Quinn, the mafioso, tilts his head innocently in confusion.

"Norman, Norman the doctor." He flashes the mafioso smile as he holds his hand out in greeting. He's rehearsed this for days on end, he has a plan for everyone situation he could find himself in. The Mafioso, however, not so much.

"U-umm..." Quinn looks down at Norman's hand then shakily holds out his own. "Q-Quinn, Quinn the...uh..." Shit, he didn't know what to say. He looked around searching for anything he can do to distract Norman or something to claim. "Uhh...ahh...I-"

His train of thought is interrupted as Norman's sadistic laughter breaks through the night. This kid is so cute, he has no clue what he's doing. He thought Quinn reminded him of himself when he first started out, but he wasn't this pathetic at first. Norman quickly shakes of his thoughts as he notices a flash of anger in Quinn's eyes, The dead stare he received for his comment tipped him off. He knows it wouldn't be smart to underestimate this kid.

Quinn becomes flustered as he becomes aware of how harsh he was glaring at the serial killer and stutters out, "S-sorry. I'm the lookout." he shakes his hand then quickly shoves them into his pockets. "I just wasn't sure if you were... good." Quinn laughs nervously, "Sorry.. I just saw your knife and thought you were like a Serial Killer or something." Quinn opens his eyes to peek at Norma's reaction and quickly stops. He wasn't laughing.

There was a moment of tension as Quinn narrows his eyes at the strange reaction, and Norman stares back with murderous intent flashing in his eyes.

"Yes. I am here to heal him." Norman replies, the murderous glare leaving his eyes. "So...If you are a lookout you are here to look.. out... right?"

"Yeah! That's what lookouts do..." He gives a shaky smiles as he adjust his collar.

"Then why are you going inside?" Quinn freezes at the question, Norman's tone was calm yet demanding which sent chills up his spine. He found out, he knew he was there to kill the medium. He bites his lip and slowly reaches behind himself for his gun and the air is tense once he notices the "doctor" doing the same.

The murderers heated staring contest is interrupted as Quinn finally speaks up, "So...'doctor'." he starts with sarcasm leaking from his tone, "You're here to kill him too?" The Serial Killer draws his knife and lunges at the mafioso, however, Quinn's quick thinking allows him to dodge and draw his gun. He points it the Serial Killer, a murderous glare contorting his usually soft and innocent into something frightening. Norman raises his hands defensively and prays that the kid doesn't have enough courage to shoot.

"Now, Mr. Serial Killer." He starts his voice low and threatening, "This is my kill. So now, you are going to kill someone else and go home, or you're going to get shot." The serial killer can't help but shake with fury, this pathetic child is ordering him around while simultaneously denying him his own kill. It is unforgivable.

He will not stand for this but regardlessly, against every single bone in his body that had grown accustomed to being a cold blooded killer, he places a mask of happiness over his pissed off expression and replies, "I understand. Not a word." Right then he wanted so badly to lunge forward and rip his throat out, but he'd prefer to wait for the right moment instead of dying to a bloodthirsty little brat.

"Leave. Now. Any sudden movements I will not hesitate to shoot you." Demands the mafioso, The Serial Killer calmly obliges and backs away from the medium's house, out of sight. The Serial Killer watches as the mafioso relaxes his arms, scans the horizon, then uses a pin in his hat to pick the doors lock. He swiftly and quietly enters the house and shuts the door.

The Serial Killer sneaks closer to the mediums' door and with grim anticipation for his next kill, waits for a the moment to strike. Once he hears a muffled gun shot from the back corner of the house, he quietly slips into the house and conceals himself in a blind spot next to the stair well. This kid has a whole another thing coming if he thought he could steal his kill and get away with it. He smirked gleefully, This brat is going to be the best kill since he murdered his parents.

After the mafioso finishes his quick execution, he drags the medium to his bedroom and with a surprising amount of respect and care, tucks the cooling body into bed. He stares at the body, and almost gags at the bloody sight. Quinn shakes his head as tears stung his eyes, this is the first year the godfather has forced him to go out and do all the killing himself, and it was starting to get to him. It's not that he hasn't killed before, it's just that usually the godfather would come out and help him but ever since he "completed his training" he's been having to do this all by himself. He never imagined himself capable of hurting another human being, but he had no other choice. He covers his face with his hands, he should've handed this kill to the Serial Killer. He is sure the sick man could handle more blood and gore than he ever could, but the godfather would probably punish him for killing his targets. He tugs at his tangled black hair, he decided to not even tell the godfather of this encounter, he might beat him anyway. He always does.

He shakes off all of his thoughts of his godfather and exits the medium's bedroom. The Serial Killer hears the sound of the mafioso's footsteps walking down the stairs, and tightens the grip on his knife. As soon as he sees the boy turns away from him and heads towards the door, he lunges at him and knocks Quinn hard on the ground.

Quinn, after coming out of his daze, reaches for his gun, but Norman stabs his knife through the hand before he can scream out in pain he covers his mouth. The serial killer sits on the mafioso thighs and straddles his body, so he can't escape from his torture as he continues to dig the knife into his right hand.

"You little brat, Do you see what happens when you try to steal my kills away from me?" He grits out angrily, completely shedding his calm and smug exterior. "You're a newbie, a child that doesn't even know how to kill correctly. What made you think you could stand up against someone who's been killing for over 7 years?" Norman chuckles darkly at Quinn's wide eyes and tear stained face that violently contorts in pain.

"You know... I wouldn't have minded you killing a bit more people. It would've been nice having another killer taking the attention away from me. I also could've given you a few pointers, like ditching the gun." He presses his mouth tenderly against the mafioso ear and whispers seductively, "A knife is more satisfying and... intimate." Quinn shakes in pain as black spots cloud his vision, he almost passes out until he's slapped across the face and he whimpers in response. "You can't retire! You're killing career just started!" he takes his hand off of Quinn's wrist and lifts his chin so Quinn's empty black eyes stare directly into his cold blue ones. "I'm going to make you suffer."'

Quinn's eyes burn with fire as he takes his free hand to give Norman a bloody nose. Norman staggers back in shock, and Quinn uses this opportunity to shove norman off of him. He reaches for the knife that is pinning his hand to the wood floor and as he pulls it out, drunk with pain, he staggers to fighting position armed with the killer's knife.

"D-don't... Underestimate me." He mutters as his hand shakes with pain and takes a defensive stance. He didn't really know what to do in the situation, but he knows he doesn't have to hold back. People like him, people that can't control themselves, can die in the name of self-defense. "I'm not afraid to kill someone like you!"

The Serial Killer chuckles as he stands, "People like me?" He notices the mafioso's discarded gun to their far right. He could make that, he could definitely make that. "From my perspective, We are exactly the same." he slowly shuffles towards the mafioso's gun. "Except I am better of course."

Quinn's entire body tenses up, "I am nothing like you! I never wanted to be anything like... this." it was true, this isn't his fault. It's not fault he's been losing control of himself more often and that he's starting to lose empathy for most human beings. It's not his fault, none of this is. He's just another victim of the mafia's twisted plans. He was caught in a fucked up revenge plot against his father, and it doesn't seem like they will ever let him go. He almost doesn't mind dying in this encounter. Almost.

"Hmm... How about we exchange sob stories? My parents abused me without mercy, so I didn't feel any sympathy when I cut them up into little pieces." he gradually eases closer to the gun. "How old are you kid? You look like you're fresh outta high school." He is trying to distract him with his words, and as Quinn began to relax he realized it was working.

"I-i'm. I'm 21. I'm not a kid, you monster." he narrows his eyes and feels himself tear up a bit. "I don't show sympathy for Serial Killer's that are trying to kill me."

The Serial Killer laughs, "Never heard that one before." He smiles smugly as sarcasm drips from his tone. "I don't show sympathy at all and neither do you, stop kidding yourself." He still hasn't noticed the killer inching towards the gun.

"S-shut up! I said I am nothing like you! I-i still feel bad for people...sometimes...A-and I still can control myself. I don't like doing this." He mutters and looks at the ground, suddenly growing insecure. "I don't like any of this. Not one bit. I'm just doing this because have to, so get out of my Head!" The mafioso shouts mostly to himself.

As the mafioso is having existential crisis, the serial slowly reachs towards the gun and almost grabs it in his hands. He lets go of it as the mafioso snaps out of his thoughts sooner than expected and tackles him onto the ground. The mafioso struggles to keep the stronger killer pinned to the floor, and ends up stabbing though one of his hands as he is almost over powered. The mafioso then uses his other hand to try to strangle Norman, but he quickly catches his wrist and squeezes it hard enough to not be able to apply any pressure.

"Returning the favour? How sadistic." The killer grins and the mafioso groans in frustration.

"Shut! Up!" he says he lifts the knife and brings it back down on his arm. Norman bites his lip to endure the pain then chuckles.

"You know, we could always stop this petty squabble to do something more intimate." Quinn face turns tomato red at the suggestions which causes him to loosen his grip on the knife and stop relax the hand trying to strangle the killer. Norman uses this opportunity to twist the mafioso's wrist and relishes in his choked scream. The mafioso completely lets go of the knife to grab the hand that was twisting his wrist. The sk takes the knife out of his arm and pushes the writhing mafioso off of him.

"Argh...uhh..." The mafioso grunts as he takes a moment to baby his purple and blue wrist, which is definitely sprained. It takes his to realize that the killer is lunging at him again and he yelps as his body is painfully smashed against the wall.

"You are so easy to manipulate." Norman taunts with a twisted grin on his face as he squeezes the mafioso's sprained wrist and makes him cry out in pain. "You know, my other offer is still on the table." Whispers the killer into Quinn's ear making him shudder. "I can alway show you a very good time."

Quinn spits at his face in response, he figuratively pats himself on the back for doing something so ballsy. This is the first time he's rebelled against his abusers, and it felt amazing.

"Well, I guess sex is off the table." He chuckles at the mafioso's deadly glare until a wicked grin twist his face into something more frightening. "I offered up a little a bit about myself so why don't you return the favour? Maybe if your story is sad enough I'll let you go. Maybe." The mafioso bites his lips and contemplates what he should say. He isn't sure if his past and family life would be enough to get the killer off of him, but he it's worth a try, right?

Quinn takes in a shaky breath and grimly starts speaking, "W-well... My mother was always very hard on me about being a perfect child all the time. She'd always yell at me until I cried for bad test scores or just for not listening in general. Even if if it was something small like once I cut My hair on accident and she yelled and hit me. I was grounded from going outside for a month and I was like only 8 at the time!" The mafioso starts tearing up, "I wasn't allowed to go outside without her and usually I'd only get to go outside for chores or when she was making me run laps around the house for like an A- instead of an A. T-then, because of all of that bullshit I wasn't allowed to have any friends, but that didn't matter. No one wanted to be my friend anyway because I was a freak!" the mafioso starts shaking with anger as the tears begin to stream down his face. "I didn't even have my father because he was always too busy dealing with the mayor and his prisoners in jail. That lasted until I was about 15 when I lost them both in the same year. It was at different times, and lucky for me my mother went first. The months I experienced when she was first dead were the best months of my life. I was so much happier and less stressed without her, but when I told my dad about that he called me out for being her killer!"

The serial killer clears his throat to interrupt him, "Did you kill them? It sounds like you really hated them." The mafioso grits his teeth in fury at the killer.

"No, I didn't fucking murder my own parents! I'm told you I am nothing like you!" The killer twist his already strained wrist even more in response making the mafioso writhe in pain.

"J-just cut to the chase before I get bored and break your wrist." he whispers, his tone eerily calm and dangerous.

The mafioso gasps in pains and chokes out, "I-i... my father killed the mafioso and then the mafia killed him for revenge. They then abducted me and forced me to be the new mafioso." He firmly shuts his mouth to keep himself from emptying his stomach all over the serial killer, that might get him killed.

To his surprise, the killer lets go of his wrist and the mafioso sighs in relief. He holds his disgusting bruised and mangled wrist carefully with his other hand and relaxes against the wall. The room fills with silence as the serial killer plays with his knife in his hands while juggling the mafioso fate in his hands. The silence is suddenly broken by the mafioso strangled gasps as the killer plunges the knife into his stomach.

Quinn's body is wracked with unbearable pain as the killer begins to twist the knife and he cringes as he feels his insides squelch around inside of him. His eyes are wide and his mouth leaks a groan or scream every once in awhile.

"B-but... You said-" he is cut of by another painful twist of the knife.

"I despise the mafia. If you had let me fuck you I probably would let you live, but then again I most likely would've killed you anyway." He gains a sadistic glint in his eyes, "My god, the way your organs squelch is also orgasmic. I guess this is practically sex anyway since I am roughly digging a hole into your body and listening to your pained groans." Great, the mafioso thought, now he's getting off to killing me, but he honestly isn't that surprised.

"Here sweetie, let me get this for you." he kisses the mafioso's tears and then captures his lips in a kiss just to taste the blood that was pouring from his mouth. The killer pulls back, licking up the access blood that stained his lips from the kiss, and quinn shivers in disgust at how much Norman's enjoying this. He had no control over his body anymore as the man continued to lick up some of the blood on his face while kissing him every now and then, and he's slowly and painfully dying from the gaping hole the killer is digging into his gut. The former, however, is no news to him.

"Ugh..." The mafioso gurgles, his mouth filled with blood before he finally hunches over. Norman sighs in frustration at the corpse in front of him. He thought he could've lived a little longer so he could do a little more, but he guessed he overestimated the mafia brat. He reaches over for the mafioso's gun, inspects it a bit, but quickly gets bored.

"He's your little gun back, to bad you won't be needing it since you are dead and all." He chuckles at his joke the places the gun in the mafioso's lap. "People like you are very pathetic. I mean forced or to work for the mafia or not, it's pretty disgusting the way you've been made into the godfather's bitch. Honestly, from what you told me earlier, you are practically everyone's bitch." He fingers the mafioso's silky black locks as he continues talking down his dead body, "At least I have the honours of being the last person you ever bowed down to."

he giggles and lifts his chin to plant a kiss on his forehead then leaves it to pathetically drop on his cooling body. "Sleep tight sweetie, maybe, on a slow night, i'll visit your body in the graveyard out of the pure kindness of my dead heart." he stands up and starts his confident stride for the door.

As he extends his hand towards the door, he chuckles to himself but stops as he hears a gunshot ring through the air. The killer, surprised and confused, looks down at gunshot wound that began to stain his white shirt red and collapses. He's dead before he even hits the ground.

"It was stupid of you to underestimate me." he croaks as the hand he's using to hold the gun violently shakes. He smirks and reveals in the his first and last victory against his abuser as black spots cloud his vision. His body becomes gradually weaker as he lets his head hang after losing the strength to keep it up. He closes his eyes and quickly fantasizes about seeing the cocky killer in the afterlife before he letting out his last breath.


	3. The Two Sided Killer and His Broken Toy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Pierish's story dark, Norman did not enjoy having to bottom so he's visiting Quinn for a repeat of their one-night stand. Except, this time it will be different. This time Quinn will be the one writhing beneath him and screaming his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, I got carried away... Also, smut and Norman is just... weird. And when I say weird, I mean the typical serial killer weird. I guess he's worse? AT least he doesn't eat people... actually I think he does. he likes to experiment.

Norman strolls through the town, his usual big grin on his face as he hums quietly to himself. He is on the way to the mafioso’s home to play around with him a bit before he went to work. He has been watching him closely this pass week and now knows his entire schedule. Tonight he’s ready, he is so ready to pay back the little mafioso twerp for their one night stand a week ago. He promises this time it will be nothing like the one before. This time he would be looming over the mafioso as he screams his name. This time will be different.

He practically skips up to Quinn’s small house on the far left side of town. The location is pretty convenient for him since he lives far away from the mayor’s house and the jail. The left side of town has always been out of sight and out of mind. A perfectly discreet where his victims can’t be heard. 

He approaches the wooden door and gives it a 3 firm knocks. While he wait’s, he takes in the sight of the mafioso’s relatively small house and frowns as he remembers the twerp didn’t have a basement. That is a bit of a set back, but he decides he can make due with his small living room. He has been snooping around in his house for the past week so he knows the ins and outs of the place, but, more importantly, he knows where all the potential weapons are. After a short while, he heard light footsteps in front of the door. Quinn cracks the door open quietly and cutely peaks his head through the crack. The killer watches his eyes widen in surprise and poorly hidden lust as he opens the door wider. 

“I-it’s...I-it’s y-you…” Quinn stutters out, biting his lip as he tries his best to hide his red face. Norman almost gags, he’s the subject of some angry child’s highschool crush. He already felt like a teacher that is fucking a student just because the student is so pitifully desperate to be touched by their favorite teacher. Even though it is obvious the student has no experience, no idea what he’s feeling, and way to fucking horny to think straight. Norman is still damn sure that in this situation, if they were to get caught, he’d be the one in deep shit while Quinn, the one who forced himself on him in the first place, will get off scot free. This is kid is trouble and he knows it, but, to him, it was just too much fun to play with his fragile emotions.

He clenches his fist to restrain himself from jumping on the child and cutting his eyes out and torturing him until he died from the pain. Instead, He calms himself and smiles, “It’s me.” he mutters, face twitching with annoyance as he mimics the mafioso’s lustful gaze.

Suddenly, Quinn blows his top and turn completely red with embarrassment, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry for what I did! I didn’t know what I was doing and i-it felt soooo go at the time I just couldn’t restrain myself. I’m so sorry, I was just desperate and I’m really bad at controlling my emotions and-” Norman interrupts him by capturing his lips in a hot kiss and wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist. 

They both fight each other’s tongues for control over the kiss, and Quinn, who still has the sex drive of premature teenage male, is already hard and desperately grabbing for killer's shirt and pants. The kiss grows slowly as Quinn gradually grows more desperate until Norman, ready to get to the good stuff, prys the desperate child away from him.

“Aw, sweetie… looks like you’ve missed me.” Norman grabs the side of the mafioso’s face to keep those lustful black eyes trained on his own icy blues. “You’re already so desperate sweet heart.” He’s seen the mafioso doing interesting things, while muttering his name, when he was stalking him through his window. Sometimes, while he was in the shower, he would wait outside in his bed room and look through a journal and family photo album he had. The child is so pathetic, he says he is 21 but he’s still stuck as his 16 year old self,it’s so obviously evident in the garbage he writes in his diary.

The mafioso’s heart flutters at the adorable pet names he’s given by his violent lover. “I-i…” quinn moans out, his face flushed as he tries to practically rip the killer’s clothes off so he could just fuck him again like last time. “I-i just want to-”

Norman forces his way into the mafioso’s house and slams the door behind him, almost mimicking the desperation Quinn is feeling now. He locks the door then throws him down and straddles his body on the hard wooden floor. “Not this time little one.” He grins widely dropping his kind facade, “You’re mine now.” he mutters darkly as takes off his belt and knife. Quinn shivers with fear and anticipation as the killer’s knife graced the side of his face. He stares the knife down with frightened eyes until Norman captures his lips in another heated kiss.

He moans into the kiss as Norman forces him to submit to his wet tongue. The knife in the killer's hand slowly sinks into the side of his cheek to leave a clean yet painfully bloody cut. Norman pulls away and licks their shared saliva off his lips. To instead, pick up the blood from the mafioso buring cut. With tears stinging in his eyes, he tries to move away from the killer’s wet tongue, the licking causing the wound to burn and cause discomfort. 

“A-ah… S-stop…” he stutters out, the cut more agonizing than it looked. In response the killer leans down and roughly bites down on the mafioso’s lower lip with enough pressure to make it bleed a beautiful crimson. The mafioso gasps at the pain as the the killer continues to worry his lip with his teeth and lick up the blood from the bruised lips. He also slightly grinds against the boy’s lower body to make him squirm from all the different sensations.

Norman pulls back and gives him a wicked smirk, a wicked smirk that makes the mafioso to remember who the hell he’s dealing with. Quinn had to constantly remind himself, Norman is not a nice and sweet lover, he acts that way and plays the part perfectly but goddammit that’s not what he is. He’s a sadistic killer with venom coursing through his veins, venom that will surely kill him if he allows it to get in his system. He doesn’t think he is ready to trust him to be gentle with him, he’s sure trusting this maniac will lead straight to his agonizing death.

“You know… I haven’t killed anyone tonight.” his grin turns crazed for a second as he plays with the knife in his hands. He wants to, so goddamn desperately, quell his burning bloodlust by tearing the blade into his abdomen and hear the boy scream. He shakes his head to come back to reality, he hadn’t even realized he zoned out for so long, and he had no clue that he’d been digging his knife into the mafioso’s right hand. 

“S-stop! N-Norman, Please!” he hears the boy sob out with tears stream down his face. He uses all his strength to shove the dazed killer off his body and baby his abused right hand. “Um… I-i’ve had enough… g-go kill someone and g-go home.” he whimpers, the killer would surely kill him if they actually started fucking. Norman’s zoning out and randomly abusing his hand with the knife had killed something -- the mafioso’s boner.

Norman narrows his ice blue eyes to stare daggers at the shaken boy. “Quinny…” he crawls closer to him and grabs quinn’s torso causing him to try and struggle from his grasp. “I’m not leaving until I lay you tonight-” the killer pins the lighter boy back to the ground and sinks his teeth into his collar bone. He writhes beneath hims and he takes his discarded belt to firmly bind his skinny wrist together. “I’m on edge because I haven’t killed anyone, denying me sex won’t save you honey.” he whispers sensually into his ear and nibbled the lobe to mimic the boys gentle sex acts from over a week ago.

Quinn shivers as he feels the killer's blade pressing against his light blue flannel, slicing it apart with experience and slight desperation. He moans when the killer begins to leave bruised all over his neck and chest. He had to report to the godfather in almost an hour so he wondered how the hell he’s going to conceal all the cuts, hickeys, and bruises he’s receiving from his psychotic partner. He had to be careful because if word got to Hyuna, or worse, Carter that he was fucking the serial killer, he’s sure they would die from humiliation before the godfather even got the chance to wring his neck.

He is jolted out of his thoughts and he gasps in pain when he feels the cold steel dragging along his flat stomach, deep enough to scar yet shallow enough so he doesn’t bleed out on the floor. The killer licks a long stripe on his face, making the mafioso shiver and chuckles darkly, “Move and I’ll slit your belly open-” he whispers as he nibbles on his ear. “I would still continue playing with you while your guts are spilled out on the floor, believe me, sweetie.” 

Quinn’s lip quivers, making Norman revel in the way his distressed face looked similar to a toddler that lost their favorite toy. He is so pathetic which made his so goddamn cute. “H-have you done t-that before?” he asks his voice wavering with fear.

Norman stares down at him for a few seconds, as if he was looking through his memories, he opens his mouth then closes it. He closes his eyes and goes deep into thought only to opens his eyes after a minute of silence and give Quinn a wide smile. That did not reassure him in the slightest.

Norman, as if the last couple of minutes never happened, goes back to cutting burning wounds into the mafioso’s stomach with his knife. He lifts knife away from the shaking mafioso and laps up the blood eagerly before going back to cut. This time, after leaving deeper and more bloody cuts, he lifts the knife up to the mafioso’s quivering lips. 

“Now it’s your turn.” he demands quietly only for the mafioso to turn away with a look of disgust on his face. His grin widens and grows a sinister edge at the rejection. He shoves the knife into the mafioso’s mouth, “Now… I don’t think your tongue would like you very much if you struggle. It would be devastating if it were to get cut out.” The mafioso’s eyes widen in horror as he tries not to gag after tasting the liquid iron in his mouth. He closes his eyes as he didn’t want to see the killer’s gleeful smile or Norman’s very obvious boner that had to be downright painful at this point. However, his nose couldn’t help but pick up the smell of blood, sweat, and flowers?-- Off the killer. He knew the killer enjoyed suspenders, gardening, listening to classical music, playing his clarinet, cooking, and of course killing people so I guess it should be expected he’d smell so earthy. I guess he could add that he’s also a necrophiliac but the killer doesn’t seem to want to confirm that small detail.

After a few moments, the killer seems to get bored and take his knife out of his less than willing partner's mouth. He laps up what little blood is left then looks down at the drooling, glossy eyes boy with a proud smile. Quinn’s head snaps to the killer when he hears him reaching into his back pocket, he tilts his head in confusion when he pulls out a tiny bottle of lube. Norman chuckles at the mafioso’s puzzlement, “Aww… so innocent.” He unbuttons his pants and pulls out his stiffened member to coat it with the slick substance. The mafioso hadn’t known he was drooling until Norman snickers, “My eyes are up here sweetheart.” Quinn’s face flushes with embarrassment.

“B-but… I wanted to… be…” his face goes from peach to tomato red, “I wanted to be inside you again! I-it felt really nice…” Norman pulls down quinn’s pants and underwear to see how stiff he was also. He bites his lip in slight frustration, he still envies his… size. “U-um… My eyes are up here!’ Quinn attempts to shout out confidently but his voice wavers ruining the joke. He brings his bound hands down to cover his face but gasps once he feels the killer’s cold hands kneading apart his shaking thighs. 

After pulling apart his legs and steadying himself in front of his entrance, he stops when he feels little Quinn’s hand tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. He looks up at the boy's face, he’s biting his quivering lip and looking to the side with tears in his eyes, and Norman, with a gentle love and care he didn’t know the killer was capable of whispers, “ What is it dear?” he takes one of his hands from his hips to cup his cheek so he can capture his gaze.

“P-please… N-norman…” he sniffles and looks at the killer with a look of utter distress, “Be… gentle.” Norman leans closer and sticks his tongue into the mafioso’s ear, he shivers in disgusts then gasps when he finally sinks into him, painfully splitting him open.

He allows him to adjust as he continues lick around and inside the shaking boy’s sensitive ear, the sensation new and surprisingly arousing. After taking a little time to adjust, Quinn desperately rolls his hips on Norman's hard member inside him in an attempt to get him to move. Norman eagerly obliges and starts at a slow pace, for Quinn's sake.

The thrusting begins to gradually heat up both of theirs bodies, making them both let out breathy moans whenever the pleasure hit just right. Norman hits a spot inside of Quinn that makes him arch up against him and pull him down with his bound hands. 

Norman, in an effort to speed things up, quickens the pace and angles their position so he's always hitting that spot that made Quinn writhe. He listens to the mafioso’s broken moans as he rolls his and bucks against the thrust to let the killer sink deeper into his body. Norman laughs out loud at how much he's enjoying the one night stand with the mafioso, sex with Quinn was infinitely more interesting than the slow and boring sex with Maxie. It was also much harder to get them to do anything he wanted them to do since he's sure his violent and suspicious kinks would tip the investigator off to his true nature.

He’s distracted from his thoughts when Quinn lets out a loud moan and pulls him down into a kiss. Surprisingly, the mafioso writhing beneath him dominates the kiss as he desperately forces the killer deeper inside his body.

Norman, in an effort to gain back control of his own mouth, grabs the mafioso’s cock and digs his nails into it making Quinn arch and let out a strangle yelp. This allows him to force his younger man’s tongue back a bit, but Quinn catches onto what he's trying to do and rolls his hips making Norman exhale into the kiss and give him back some control.

Grabbing the hand he stabbed earlier, he digs his hand into the deep cut and uses his other hand to open up the cuts he made on his stomach. The mafioso screams in agony while Norman takes full control of the kiss. 

The pain and pleasure make Quinn orgasm and the mafioso’s orgasmic screams makes norman come along not too long after. The kiss is broken, both of them come down from their highs slowly, the killer’s icy blue orbs stare into the mafioso’s glossy dead ones.

He pulls out and quickly dresses himself, already planning on having sex with Maxie once he got back home. Quinn, on the other hand, is tired and completely covered in his own blood as he tries not to pass out from the pain. He struggles to sit up with the injuries in his hand and stomach and Norman decides to be kind tonight. He finishes dressing and gently supports the mafioso on his shoulder to help him up the stairs to his room.

Quinn looks at him questioningly as he rummages around in his closet to grab him a new pair of underwear and his suit for work which made the mafioso ponder how he seems to know where everything is in his house when, to his knowledge, he’s never step foot in here before. He then disappears into the bathroom and later exits with alcohol, bandages, and towels.

The mafioso scoots away from him, unsure of what he's about to do, but he sits on his legs, straddling him so he cannot move. He warily eyes the knife in the killer’s back pocket.

“P-please… n-not like this…. please” Quinn whines as he tries to get away and realizes his hands are still bound. Tears run down his face as he finally gives up and accepts what torture the sick man will put him through. 

Norman pours the alcohol onto the towel and rubs it around on the mafioso's stomach, cleaning the cuts he had made. Quinn, in agonizing pain, allows his tears to Stream down his face as he hyperventilates. Leaning down and biting on his ear, Norman coos, “Shh… sweetie, it will be over soon. “This only seems to further Quinn's suspicions.

“P-please… don't… I-I'm sorry…” Norman raises a brow at how pathetically Quinn was begging for his life. He rolls his eyes and moves on to cleaning the wound in his hand, completely ignoring his pained screams. 

Once he finishes cleaning, he picks up the bandages and gently wraps up his wounds with tender love and care. Quinn stares in disbelief as Norman leans down and smooches his cheek. 

“W-what?” He stutters out till Norman puts his finger over his mouth.

“You've got to go to work, and-” his eyes light up with chilling murderous intent as he continues, “ I have people to disembowel.” Quinn grimaces at his eagerness for gore.

“Please spare me the gorey details.” He suddenly becomes flustered, “N-no pun intended…” Norman smiles and gives him another kiss before walking towards the door. Before he can leave, the mafioso grabs his hand and he snaps his head back to look at the saddened boy.

“Are you… will… w-will you come back to me?” he worries his bottom lip and briefly glances at the clock. Only 30 minutes before he goes back to the mafia, 30 minutes before he has to leave his lover, 30 minutes before he has to go back to the hell that is his life. He pulls the killer back to him, tears streaming down as he hugs him from behind. “I-i...I-i don't wanna go back… P-please I’m not ready to leave you yet.”

The killer sighs and, struggles to pry the boy’s hands from around his waist because of how desperately he was clinging onto him. He holds his face in his hand and wipes away the tears that began sting the cut on the side of his cheek. He licks the wound, adding insult to injury. The mafioso looks down, his expression grim, his loving boyfriend was gone and replaced with the cruel killer he truly was

Norman snickers at the pathetic little boy, “Sorry little one. Maybe you can learn to enjoy being the godfather’s little bitch, you seem to already enjoy being mine.” Quinn’s head snaps up, fire illuminating his eyes and turning them into something frightening. Norman blinks, surprised by the mafioso’s furious reaction, he almost felt threatened. Almost.

“Get. Out. My. House. Now.” Quinn demands, the smug smile the killer always wore when playing around with his emotions just made his blood boil. 

Norman’s sadistic laughter echoes through the room, “Have fun at work tonight sweetheart! Maybe tomorrow I’ll consider pack you a lunch!” he mocks the mafioso before opening the window and disappearing into the night. 

Quinn scoffs and looks back at the time, he had 15 mins to shower and get to the meeting thanks to his asshole of a boyfriend. Norman is his boyfriend right, but then is the killer also his lover? Can he choose which one to love or is he just fooling himself, and they are really the same person? He ponders this question as he fingers the brown belt the man left behind. He bites his lip as feels tears run down his face. He didn’t care he already missed them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTICE ME INTOXICATED SENPAI! 
> 
> Not sure how your serial killer matches with Norman but I'd say they both are pretty messed up.


	4. Unrequinted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jailor has a confession that Norman isn't going to like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubious content/Rape

“Ugh...” 

 

The killer mutters, stirring from his forced slumber. He opens his eyes only to be met with the black of the blindfold that covers his eyes. He attempts to moves his arms, they won’t budge, then his legs but they also fail to cooperate. He can’t help but jump when he hears the distinct sound of dress shoes trapping again the jail floor. 

 

“You’re struggling is futile.” drawls out a sweet and breathless voice. What he was doing to become so breathless, he didn’t know and personally never wanted to find out. “Do you know why you’re here?” 

 

“Mmphm!” he responds, angrily trying to bite down on the gag obstructing his speech. He lets out an audible curse, the fucker planned this. 

 

The jailor chuckles, the rattling of metal - keys perhaps? - fill the dank jail, “ Well, You can’t answer me back, but to address your morbid curiosity, I’ll tell you why you’re here.” The rattling and the jailor’s foot steps become louder as he creeks open the door of the jail and crouches down next to the killer bound form. 

 

Shit, is all he could think as he attempts to move away from the jailor’s finger’s that sensually traced his exposed collarbones only to be restricted by the handcuffs binding him to jail’s bed. Wait, the killer thought, exposed? He shivers as he finally notices the chilling draft. 

 

“If you think you’re here because I found out you’re a serial killer...you’re wrong.” whispers the jailor as he traces over the rest of killer’s naked body. The jailor had completely stripped him of his clothing. All of his clothing. His knife. He lets out another curse, this couldn’t get any worse. 

 

“No… I knew you were a serial killer from the beginning...you’re here for another reason-” he licks his red lips and pinches the killer’s cheek making him squirm. “No… Norman… I brought you here because I have a confession.” 

 

The killer realizes his struggle his futile, he’s going to die here, he just wishes he had the chance to gut the son of bitch before he does… before he does whatever the hell he’s about to do to him.

 

The lunatic lets out another startling cackle, “My confession is that-” he leans in close to his ear and gives it a nibble, “I’ve loved you for a very, very, very...long time.” the confession is agonizingly slow, he’s trying to tease him, he’s lying, he has to be. 

 

He’s ecstatic when the jailor rips the gag from his mouth, “What do you think?” the crazed man asks as he traces circles on killer’s stomach and bites his lips in anticipation of his love’s answer.

 

The killer sheds his usual elegant and sultry manner of speaking, “ I think you ought to choke on your own gun and die. Then give me my knife back while you’re at it.” Sneers the killer, knowing this will not improve his chances of survival. He honestly didn’t plan on living through this, especially after that...confession, but he refuses to let himself be defiled but some wack job behind some prison bars. 

 

He hears the jailor’s breath hitch in his throat, “Aw… if the town’s great Jailor going to cry because his ‘lover’ didn’t refused to take his heart?” The killer smirks as he brutally taunts the poor man. Perhaps he’ll take his advice and he’ll be able to run free, he wasn’t sure. “Also, my dear jailor, Your love is awfully unrequited, I suggest you kill yourself and never try again.” he taunts with a venomous voice that still drips with honey.

 

His thoughts of freedom are shatter as he feels a heel come down his oh his neck, crushing his windpipe momentarily. He chokes and struggles for air as the Jailor mutters, “That’s the wrong answer…” Norman could practically feel the pain in the jailor’s tone, he is obviously not joking especially once he continues, “Don’t worry…” he takes his foot from the killer neck causing him to splutter and spasm on the cell floor, “After I show you how much I love you...You’ll feel the same way…” 

 

“What the hell does that-” the killer’s demand is cut short as the Jailor locks lips with him in a sloppy and desperate manner. The jailor moans into the kiss and tightly shuts his eyes as he shoves his tongue into his ‘lovers’ mouth. The killer tries to move away, but his jaw is grabbed as the jailor straddles his body and continues to shoves his tongue down his throat. The worst thing about it is that the jailor is so desperate, it is almost cute, but the killer discards the thought as he gags on the jailor’s tongue. Nevermind this shit wasn’t cute at all.

 

He pulls back, a trail of saliva still connect them. “Sorry Norman...I’ve just wanted this for so long that It’s hard to keep my hands off of you.” he mumbles as he licks up their mingling saliva that begins to run down his chin. “Here, I know you don’t like being completely exposed in this dank and cold jail… so i’ll warm you up…” 

 

He beings to feel teeth biting and wet lips kissing along the sensitive skin of his collar bone. A particularly harsh bite sends waves of pleasure down to his already hardening cock. The Jailor notices this and takes it into his hands then purrs, “You’re enjoying yourself sweetpea?” he licks just under his blindfold and kisses his nose, “I know you can’t see me but we can still enjoy this.” 

 

He bucks against the jailor’s hand once he begins to stroke him up and down. “F-fuck…” he chokes out as he licks down his stomach and takes him into his mouth. He hums, the vibrations making him even harder as he teases around it with his tongue. 

 

He pulls back after placing a kiss on the head and murmurs, “ I expected you to be sweeter...and treat me as nice as you treat that tiny woman.” he quickly wets his own fingers and slowly inserts it into his tight hole, his pains gasps music to his ears. “You’re so red, just like a cute little tomato. I long to take a bite out of you.” he quips and adds another finger, watching the killer desperately bite back his moans. “I wonder if you'd be a sweet tomato or one of the more sour ones…” He teases once Norman lets out a high pitched moan, the Jailor rubbing a spot that makes his back arch. Damn his body for acting so attracted to this monster, he grimaces once he realizes the irony in that statement.

 

“Don’t hold back, sweetie…” he unzips his pants and frees his own erection. “I actually never imagined it this way, y’know,” he admits as he presses against the newly stretched hole. “I always thought this would turn out the other way around…” he murmurs sweetly, leaning down closer to his ear. “If you accept my love...I’ll let you do anything you wish to my body.” He teases his cock before finally pressing into him causing a shriek to rip from the killer’s throat.

 

He can’t believe this is happening, he’s being fucked by nut who claims to love him and because he didn’t return his disgusting feelings, they are being forced into him. He hated being degraded like this in such a way, especially since he doesn’t know who the fucker is. Perhaps the Jailor will spare him the shame and just slaughter him after he’s done, and leave his body in the middle of town square, or he’d keep him chained up here forever in his own cell and do whatever he fucking feels like to him. He didn’t know which was more likely but both options were equally as terrifying.

 

He’s thrown out his thoughts as he hits a spot inside of him that causes him to arch against him and let out a moan. The jailor chuckles and angles their positions so his fast, punctuating thrust always hit his sweet spot. “O-oh…” he gasps, “Y-you like it? Don’t you love the way out body meld together so perfectly?” he smiles dreamily, expectantly awaiting a response.

 

The killer seethes with anger, “F-fuck! -no...G-get out of m-me…” he gasps out unable to hold back his embarrassing noises any longer. “Y-you fucking loo-” he doesn’t get to finish as he feels the jailor’s nails dig into his throat. 

 

“You know...your tone really hurts my feelings, darling-” the killer chokes as he tightens his grip, “I’m just trying to show you how much I love you...why do you have to be like this?” He can hear the jailors voice wavering with pain as he chokes him to death. “I've loved you for so long! I finally get to have my way with you, so the least you could do is fucking cooperate asshole!” The jailor’s thrust speed up as his anger builds and lets out a chokes gasp, he curses his body for submitting to all this pleasure. 

 

He'd never would have thought he'd ever orgasm while being so close to death. The sensation felt strange, he still felt all the pleasure, but the dull pain of the Jailor ripping his lower half apart has begun to fade. Is this what his victims felt? He was a little disappointed, he didn't want the pain he inflicted on his victims to fade away so quickly, No, he wanted, needed them to suffer till the very end.

 

The killer feels a warmth spread in his lower half as the Jailor loosens his deadly grip. He coughs and splutters while shaking in disgust. The Jailor pulls out and, in an attempt to comfort, places a kiss on his cheek, “ Now do you see how much I love you?” He smiles, but it’s not like Norman could even see it and like hell the lunatic smiling at him after what just happened could ever get him anywhere near comfort or something as ludicrous as love. 

 

He finally catches his breath and attempts to struggle from beneath the jailor. The jailor cups the killers cheeks, lovingly. “Are you listening, Norman? Don’t you return my feelings?” 

 

Norman spits in jailors face, “Excuse my french Mr.Jailor, but fuck off you lunatic.” he mutters, voice laced with venom. In response he receives a hard blow to the head, from what had to be a gun, then darkness.

 

 

 

Norman slowly opens his eyes, he realizes that he tucked into a bed with soft blue sheets. Sitting up, he also notices the cool grey walls of the room and sighs, “Home…” He rubs his aching head and gets out of bed. His feet mutely pound against his grey carpet, he opens the bathroom door and stares at himself in the mirror.

 

He couldn’t believe it, the jailor hadn’t executed him even after all the obscenities he shouted at him. Sighing, he touches his neck to find it covered in bandages from the wound the man left from nearly choking him to death. Who the hell is this guy and why would he tuck him so nicely into bed after all of that abuse? He shakes his head, the answer was obvious, the man was telling the truth. He had fallen madly in love with him which means he might have to endure this shit until he decides to finally end him. He glares at his reflection then grins, he could use this to his advantage.

 

 

The next night, the killer once again finds himself tied up in jail. Things go by much quicker this time, but notably, the jailor is much more gentle and takes things much slower. After the jailor release him from a hot kiss, he asks in a wavering voice, “W-who are you a-and why are you doing this?” he tries so hard not to let out an embarrassing noise as pleasure coursed up his spine. He couldn’t help the rather loud moan he lets out as the atmosphere burns with passionate love.

 

The jailor chuckles darkly, “Sweetie, every time to you act like you don’t remember me, It just makes me want to kill you.” he dresses himself and goes in for another kiss, but the killer moves his head away. “Norman, Would you love me if you knew who I was?” he sighs out exasperatedly, he'd rather show him his love then tell him about it.

 

“Yes!” the killer blurts out, “I can’t really love someone I can’t remember right?” he gives a nervous smile and the jailor rolls his eyes. 

 

He strokes his face, “It’s not that simple y’know...You claim you would love me, but why should i ever trust a serial killer?” his voice slightly wavers with pain as he continues, “I’m not even sure you have the emotional capacity to love me...You have changed a lot since we formally met…”

 

Norman desperately tries to hold in a cackle at how tragic this all sounded, “But I could try, can’t you just tell me your name, perhaps? Maybe that might ring a bell.” He lies, he just wanted to know his names so he can sneak into his house and rip his guts out. It’s not like he didn’t want to remember him, it’s just that he physically can not. He had repressed most of his memories from before he had be a serial killer so trying to remember him just based off a voice would be nearly impossible. 

 

“Hm…How about this?” the jailor suggest, “You have till the end of the week to remember who I am! Figure it out before then and I will let you...have your way with me.”

 

He couldn’t help but grimace at the jailor’s breathy tone “And, if I don’t?” 

 

“Oh Sweetheart, I won’t hesitate on slaughtering you!” he replies in a cheerfully

 

He shuts his eyes, contemplating his options, “That just sounds like a win-win for you, but fine...I agree.” Once he finds out who this fucker is, he’s going to rip his guts out and use them to string him up in the middle of town while he’s still alive. 

 

“You have an awfully big grin on your face, you must be thinking about how happy we are going to be together.” The jailor coos, as he grabs a rag soaked in chloroform and places it over the killers nose and mouth, forcing him into a deep sleep.

 

The rest of the week is basically the same routine, the jailor screws around with him at night while Norman carefully pieces together the jailor’s identity day by day. He tried racking his brain for someone with his voice but to no avail. Whatever memory he had of him was either buried or discarded from his mind long ago. He simply results to using process of elimination to pick out the crazed man. 

 

First, he picked out all of the men since the jailor has to be a guy as his voice was low and smooth. He then rules out the taller men, as the killer recalls the jailor admitting to ‘being small enough for him to carry in his arms on their honeymoon.’ He shivers, like hell he was going on a honeymoon with that pervert. At least now that he knows who he is, he is going to show him the torture of a lifetime.

 

The killer slips on black gloves and slips his knife into its holder on the back of his belt. Smirking, he makes his way to that jailors home while singing a jolly tune. He takes a moment to survey his surroundings, no lookouts, in fact, the night was completely silent. The killer chuckled darkly, that was about to change.

 

He steps onto the jailor’s doorstep and pries open the unlocked door. Silently, he climbs the stairs in search of the short, almost cute, raven haired man. Creaking open another door, this times to the man's bedroom, he slips in with eaze. His grin contorting into something wicked once he spots the jailor quietly working at a desk near his bed.

 

He shuts the door behind him, “Oh Damien, looks like I have found you.” the killer sings with twisted glee as he takes long strides towards the man. He stops once he suddenly has a gun pointed at his face, horror completely washes over Norman as realizes he didn’t think this through.

 

“A-a-ah...my dear killer.” he walks closer to the gun still trained on his rigid form, “You didn’t think this through did you?” he chuckles as he receives a heated glare from Norman, he’s imagining himself ripping his throat out so he doesn't have to hear that god awful drawl that is the jailor’s voice. “Anyways, you came just in the nick of time! Let's see we initiated this challenged last...friday,” he gives a brief pause to rack his brain, “Ah, yes! Now it’s Friday again...so I believe that's a week.”

 

Grimacing the killer gives a venomous reply, “So what it’s friday, I fucking found you already now hold up your end of the deal and put that gun down.” he couldn’t help the anger that slips from his voice. “Whatever...even if I manage to kill you, I’m probably in your will.””

 

“Hmmmm….Well you are, just not in the way you would think!” Damien begins to slowly ease his finger on to the trigger, the killer, terrified out of his mind just shuts his eyes tightly and braces for death. 

 

But it never comes.

 

When he finally opens his eyes, he sees the jailor staring at him with a sad smile and tears streaming down his face. He sets the gun back down onto his desk and takes timid steps towards Norman, who finally snaps out of his confusion and readies his knife.

 

Norman smirks, “I-i knew you couldn’t kill me.” he lies as he walks toward the quiet jailor, wanting to meet him halfway. “You’re such an idiot, Now I will make you pay for the torture you’ve put me through for days.” his grin widens as more tears fall down the Jailor’s face, “Oh Damien, it’s going to be alright. I’ll make sure your last moments with me are so drawn out you will beg for death.” 

 

Norman continues to taunt as Damien wordlessly walks towards the knife wielding man. He raises a hand to wipe away Damien's tears with a love and care that even surprised himself. Damien stands in front of him and grabs the hand with the knife. “What are you up to little one? No use struggling, you’ve seal-” he’s cut off as Damien lifts himself up on his toes and gives the killer a passionate kiss. He gasps, but not because the jailor deepened the kiss, but because the crazed man forces his knife into his own abdomen.

 

Damien whimpers as he uses the killer's hand to twist the knife in his stomach and finally collapses. Norman, on reflex, catches him and cradles him in his arms, he then reaches for the knife embedded into the jailor’s troso and pulls it out leaving a gaping hole in it’s wake.

 

“W-what..” the killer stutters out, surprised and almost startled by the Jailor’s suicidal action. “Damien, What the hell did you do that for?” He felt something awkwardly sit in the pit of his stomach;it made him feel sick. Damien smiles as he hears an edge in the killer’s voice, an almost concerned edge. At least that is what he told himself.

 

Damien licks the blood that had begun pouring from his mouth, “Y-you know...i-it f-feels-” he reaches a shaking hand up to the wide-eyed killer’s cheek. “I-it’s so n-nice to hear you say m-my n-name…” Norman couldn't help but stare at the odd man as he monologues, “I-i doubt y-you remember when we meet b-but...I-i never forget you..” he grimaces and shakes with pain but he plasters a dreamy grin on his face. “I-i remember when you caught me spying on you...just a couple of years ago a-at the crime scene… I-i knew… yes i-i knew right away that you were the one w-who ripped apart your parent bodies, but… I-i didn’t stop me from swooning when your icy blue e-eyes met mine.” he hacks up some blood before continuing on, “W-when I heard you were abused by your parents, j-just like me, I-i knew we were meant to be t-together.” 

 

Norman listens, that sick feeling in his stomach growing worse at every word that left his mouth. And Damien, a laugh full of anguish as tears begin to pour down his face. 

 

“Perhaps those dreams I had of you, the ones of you snuggling me, telling me that everything would be alright, were just sick fantasies conjured up by my broken mind. I-i’m sure that they were j-just thing I saw y-you tell your little brother and I couldn't help b-but imagine you treating me with that same love and affection. I-i even knew you were a serial killer, right from the very beginning, I knew…I-i could tell by the lack of remorse on your face when y-you saw y-your parents were dead.” a twitching grin stretches out on his face as he uses his trembling right hand to draw a small heart with his own blood on the killers cheeks and uses his other to wipe his tears that refused to cease. Unconsciously, Norman tightens his grip on the dying man with his lips pierced together in a thin line. “T-the worse p-part-” he chokes out, “I-i w-was the town jailor that fell in love with a psychopath...a-a psychopath t-that never would return my feelings…a-and despite a-all of this...I-i still love you...” He laments, forcing one last chuckle from his hoarce throat.

 

Norman watches the life leave the jailor’s green eyes and smirks triumphantly. That was quite stupid of him, almost tragic even. He’s tempted to laugh until he finds that queasy feeling weighing down on his chest, but Norman shrugs it off, the smell of the jailor’s blood was just getting to him tonight, nothing more. While taking a long and hardy look at the Jailor’s lifeless eyes and the self-inflicted wound that gushed blood, he notices drops of water falling on the jailor’s cheek. Norman furrows his brow and looks up at the ceiling, it’s raining, he could hear the pitter-patter of the rain on the outside of the house, but no leakage. 

 

Strange.

 

At least, he denotes it as such until he feels completely nauseous and dizzy. He raises his hand to cover his mouth in orders to keep himself from vomiting, but when his hands reach his face, he realizes his cheeks are wet. Upon tracing the trail of water up on his cheeks he realizes, “I-it’s coming from my eyes?” his gaze falls back on the jailor’s body as the water continues to collect on the dead man’s cheek. Suddenly, He finds his chest tightening painfully as he clutches Damien’s limp body in his aching arms.

 

“D-damien, w-what the hell did you d-do? W-why am I crying?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Norman CAN FEEL THINGS OKAY

**Author's Note:**

> Up next: My Ocs Edgar and Gage being edgy. Also Watch for my Maxie X Norman FF that is coming soon AKA Invest x SK


End file.
